You Put The Devil In Me
by jinglebellsisawesome
Summary: How I wished things had happened during season four with Martha and the Master being dragged along for the ride. HILARITY ENSUES. "Light travels faster than sound, Ms Jones. That is why some people, such as you, appear brighter until they open their mouths." On hiatus.
1. Martha's Quest

"So, what do we do with this one?" Captain Jack Harkness, ever famous for his charmingly good looks and flirtatious comments with just about anyone that moves, questioned with a look of disgust that was well concealed behind the dirt and the grim plastered on his face as he handcuffed the man who had done this to him and countless others.

"We kill him."

"We execute him."

Martha was shocked to hear her own family voice their hatred in such a way – especially her dear sister, Tish, who was normally so kind and forgiving. But there was no forgiveness on her face as she stared at the Master with eyes that blazed with anger that wasn't being hidden away. Deep inside Martha's mind, she wondered just what he had done to her older sister to make her so vile.

"No!" The Doctor's voice broke out, not even considering the _possibility_ of killing. "That's not the solution!"

A sudden cock of a gun made everyone think twice.

"Oh, I think so." The owner of the gun uttered in a voice that Martha instantly recognized. _Mum!_ She could only watch in despair as her mother pointed a gun at the man responsible for all her suffering, and the rest of her family's as well.

"'Cause all those things… They still happened." Francine's voice began to waver as tears filled her eyes unexpectedly. "Because of _him_." She said the word with obvious disdain which did nothing except make the Master smirk at her useless attempt of bravado. "I saw them…"

"Go on." The Master egged on, smirking at her mother with a manic grin. "Do it!" In this moment, Martha regretted ever disbelieving anyone who claimed the Master was nothing but insanity walking – she always used to dismiss it as a pointless rumour to spread the hope of countless slaves and prisoners, but right now, the Master's look on his face was all it took to notice just how true that statement really was.

Unbeknownst to her mother, behind her the Doctor had slowly began to climb down the stairs, Martha close by on his trail, careful to not say or do anything that might set her off. "Francine," the Doctor's voice assertive as he spoke which could almost be considered as somewhat cold. "You're better than him." He ghosted his hand around the gun held firmly in the older woman's grip as it slowly loosened to the point where she dropped it entirely. Martha dashed down the remainder of the stairs to comfort her poor mother whom she hadn't seen for an entire year that never was.

The Master glanced at Francine with a look of disgusted disappointment.

"You still haven't answered the question: what happens to me?" The Master persisted.

The Doctor paused for a heartbeat. "You're my responsibility from now on." He looked at his former enemy with an unreadable expression on his face. Hope, pity, possibly regret? "The only time lord left in existence."

Jack stepped forward and quietly muttered to the Doctor. "Yeah, but you can't trust him."

"No." The Doctor agreed, eyeing up his archenemy. "The only safe place for him is the TARDIS."

The Master struggled to process this information. "You mean you're just gonna…_keep me_?"

The Doctor nodded. "Mmm. If that's what I have to do."

He turned back to look at his friends and companions. "It's time to change. Maybe I've been wondering for too long." His gaze turned to Martha, who was grasping her mother tightly in her grip, and the two shared a look. "Now I've got someone to care for—"

"Doctor!" Martha suddenly exclaimed in a desperate tone, her gaze transfixed upon the sight of a blonde woman wearing a red dress…and brandishing a black gun.

The Doctor, surprisingly quick on his feet considering the past year he had been confined to the body of an old man, ran full pelt to where Lucy stood.

"Give that to me." He ordered firmly, his tone flat and serious as he held out his hand expectantly. It was all the Master could do not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Lucy Saxon did nothing, not even blink (which would have been rather convenient had they been chased down by a bunch of Weeping Angels), seemingly mesmerised by the sight of her husbands restrained form.

Martha, not trusting the Doctor to go about the situation in the correct way, attentively reached out her hand to the gun tightly clasped in the blonde woman's grip.

"Here, it's alright," Martha said softly, not wanting to further agitate an already distressed woman, "I've got you. Just let go."

Slowly but surely, thanks to Martha's antiques, the gun loosened in Lucy's clasp allowing the younger woman to clutch the death weapon and hand it wordlessly over to the Doctor as she embraced Lucy who was in clear shock.

"Well this has certainly been amusing," the Master's voice broke through, sneering at his wife in disgust before then turning to the Doctor. "Considering that soon I'll no longer be allowed my own freedom, this is a brilliant parting gift."

The Doctor stepped forward, his eyes ablaze and wild as he looked his sworn enemy in the eyes. "Would you rather I let you die? Let you get shot? Is that what you want?"

The Master yawned, his mouth widened considerably at this point as he dismissed the rage beneath his once friend's armour, knowing full well that he wouldn't have it in him.

"So sentimental, Doctor…" he chastised lazily. "You'd almost pass for a human with the amount of soppiness you possess…"

"Stop it!" Martha spoke up, her arms still firmly enfolded around Lucy's quivering form. "He could leave you here. Let you _die_," She said the last word with clear empathises, "which is no less than you deserve—" at this the Master let an idle smirk grace his features "—but he's letting you _live_. So just do us all a favour, and _shut up_."

To everyone's surprise and amazement, the Master did just as Martha had told him to, he shut up.

The Doctor took a deep breath to calm himself (and to regain back control over the situation before any more guns make any sudden appearances) and nodded silently behind the Master's shoulder at Jack who once again regained complete control over the Master.

"Take him to the TARDIS." He ordered, his tone flat, echoing that of a resolved soldier. Jack complied and led the Master out of the room, handling him without care.

"Ow," the Master complained as Jack pushed him rather forcefully into the lift.

"Don't worry," Jack replied, wrapping his arm around the Master's restrained whilst the latter squirmed in disgust at being so close contact to one who reeked of grim. "The party's not even started yet."

* * *

Walking up to the familiar blue box that held adventure and danger in their wake, Martha dug the TARDIS key out of her bag and unlocked the doors, stepping into the inviting atmosphere, drinking it all up.

As soon as the sound of the doors opening reached the Doctor's superb hearing, he uncrossed his legs from where they were strewn upon the console and removed his backside from the pilots seat.

"Right then. Off we go. The open road." He said as he dashed about the console at a manic pace as if he didn't know where to start. "There is a burst of star fire right now on the coast of. Oh, the sky is like...oil on water. Fancy a look?" Without waiting for Martha's reply he continued. "Or, back in time. We could...I don't know. Charles II? Henry VIII? I know what about Agatha Christie? I'd love to meet Agatha Christie, bet she's brilliant..." His voice trailed off as he finally acknowledged the look on her face, a look he didn't get very often, but one that he undoubtedly knew.

There was a couple minutes of silence as the Doctor began to process the realisation and try to relieve some of the crushing pressure on his hearts.

"Okay." He finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I just can't." Martha said.

The Doctor attempted to smile but found that if he did so it would come out as more of a grimace than anything else so he kept his face neutral. "Yeah."

"I've spent all these years training to be a doctor, now I've got people to look after."

The Doctor lowered his head as Martha continued. "They saw half the planet slaughtered and they're devastated. I can't leave them." She took a step towards him.

"'Course not." The Doctor nodded, cursing himself for acting all sentimental.

There was another short pause of silence as neither of them knew exactly what to say. The Doctor looked at her and gave her a small smile that both broke and clenched at her heart.

"Thank you," he said, his voice sounding lost and broken but desperately trying to hold on. He moved forward and enveloped the black time traveller in a crushing hug that left her almost begging for more.

But as soon as it had started, it finished twice as quickly. A statement from the Doctor came rushing back to her, unbidden: 'Never waste time with a hug.' She had now seen the truth in that proclamation. They are beautiful while they last, bringing happiness and a feeling of contempt, but when separated from your hug, you finally feel the cold and wish that person was back there engulfing you in their strong arms...

"Martha Jones, you saved the world," The Doctor said moments after the hug ended, successfully snapping her out of her 'hug' rant.

Thankfully, Martha quickly recovered. "Yes, I did." she considered briefly whether to carry on and say this next bit, but then decided that she was leaving anyway so it didn't matter whether the Doctor had an insight as to what was going on in her mind during their adventures.

"I spent a lot of time with you thinking I was second best, but you know what? "She poked him in his abdomen lightly, just enough to send him a little off balance. "I am good."

The Doctor let out a cheeky little giggle at that and the sound of it nearly broke Martha's heart in two.

"You gonna be alright?" Martha asked him, all humour aside.

The Doctor nodded slightly. "Always, yeah," which basically translated into: 'I don't want to be alone...' Martha knew this without a shadow of a doubt.

"Right then," Martha said, not having enough heart in her to argue about this. "Bye-"

"Hey, has anyone seen my shoe?" A voice broke out amongst the two, successfully managing to ruin this little goodbye. Oh, for the love of...

The Master stepped out in full view of the Doctor and Martha. Donning his signature white shirt with black jacket and tie and impeccable black shoes that seemed to positively glow when you start at the long enough so much so that you could undoubtedly see your own reflection in them (I wonder how many times my mother had to scrub those shoes to get them to that level of cleanliness) but without, unsurprisingly, a shoe. He looked up from where he was staring at his sock forlornly in much the same fashion as the Doctor gazed heartbroken at the burnt out sonic screwdriver.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" He asked innocently.

Martha felt annoyed at having her last encounter with the Doctor interrupted - no less than the man who had slaughtered half the world and forced her to go walking across and see the horrors for herself.

However, the Doctor was instantly relieved at having someone interrupt this ending. And who can blame him? He hates goodbyes.

Determined to ignore the one-shoe'd alien in the corner she lifted her head up to lightly graze her lips across the Doctor's cheek in a fleeting kiss, feeling his short stubble scratch against her slightly, breathing in the alluring scent of Doctor, allowing it to waft up in her nose and overwhelm her senses.

She withdrew her lips as quick as she could from the Doctor's caressing skin whilst wishing that she could have let them stay longer, maybe travel up to his full succulent lips... But that was just wishful think.

She all but dashed down to the doors, yanking them open.

It wasn't until she was almost outside that she heard the Master's voice speak up, his tone mocking.

"Aww, wasn't that sweet?"

As the doors closed shut, Martha turned to walk towards her house, her mind still replaying those last words over and over in her head until she stopped completely and a slow smile graced her beautiful features as she turned and strode confidently back into the TARDIS.

"You know what?" Martha asked, choosing to ignore the Master's devilish smirk that painted itself onto his lips. "I think I would like to see Agatha Christie."

…And that was when a gigantic ship crashed into the side of the TARDIS.

Of course.


	2. The Stowaways

A/N: Thank you to all of you people who have read and commented on this story. The feedback is very much appreciated and I sincerely apologise for the lateness of this chapter. I hope you like it.

* * *

Chapter Two: The Stowaways

* * *

"Martha! Come on!"

The woman in question grumbled to herself as she slipped on the first dress she could find. Ever since the Doctor found out that the spaceship that crashed into what was supposed to be a tearful goodbye bore the same name as the ill-fated ship Earth ship, he had been as a giddy as a child on a sugar high. He had ordered them all to change into something suitable for a first-class journey which was how Martha found herself in this predicament, searching for a dress that made herself seem more than she actually was. However, being a man such as himself, the Doctor hadn't suffered during the trials of clothing changes and instead had managed to change into something relatively quickly. Moreover-

"Come on, Martha. We haven't got all day."

_That_ caused Martha to stop her inner musings, turning her blood cold. The Master. It hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours since the events aboard the _Valiant_. Martha hadn't even had the opportunity to recover both mentally and physically, and the Doctor just goes and invites him along into the TARDIS. Well, he didn't _invite_ so much as to order him to stay with them, without so much as a glance in her direction. She felt cheated, she felt wronged, hell, she felt _hurt._ She had just walked across the entire Earth, every single continent and country to free the world from the Master's tyranny, seen many things that she would have been perfectly happy _not_ seeing, saved the Doctor's life and everyone on Earth and she still wasn't deemed important enough for a second glance._  
_

Martha zipped up the side of the dress and smoothed her hair before taking a chance look in the mirror, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding. _You can do this_.

Opening the TARDIS doors, she was greeted with a sight that made her heart skip a beat. The Doctor was wearing the same suit he had worn when they both attended Professor Lazarus' theory on changing "what it means to be human", and Martha was sure that it looked better now than it did back then. The sight was absolutely mouth-watering and she fought to keep her composure of indifference.

"You took you time," the Master sneered at her, although with a noticeable pout at being kept waiting for so long. However, Martha was almost grateful for the distraction. _Almost_.

Before Martha could think to retort, however, the Doctor, the knight in shining armour that he was, came to her rescue. "Oi. At least she actually managed to get herself dressed, which is more than we can say for you."

And right he was. The Master was wearing exactly the same outfit as he was the last time she saw him, right down to the missing left shoe.

"What can I say?" He smirked.

"_Hopefully, nothing_," Martha muttered under her breath. The Master gave no inclination that he heard her comment.

Changing the subject, Martha questioned, "Where are we?"

"We are directly above planet Earth in a..._rather unfortunately_ named ship."

"_When_ are we?" Martha questioned, more than used to this way of speaking.

"Christmas Eve."

Martha's eyes widened before her face split into a wide grin. She loved Christmas; the joys and festivity of the holiday never failed to put a smile on the young woman's face. And, she was in desperate need of some cheering up in light of what had just happened.

A steward walked pass the three of them and smiled briefly. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," the Doctor answered whilst Martha smiled at the man. From behind her, the Master snorted ungracefully causing the man to turn around with an offended expression on his face whilst walking. The Master simply smiled in response, but he was otherwise ignored.

"Ooh, hello. What have we here?" The Doctor exclaimed happily as he eyed a golden coloured angel-looking robot. Martha rolled her eyes as she followed him, the Master close behind her.

"Evening," the Doctor greeted the robot with a happy smile. "Passenger fifty seven. Terrible memory. Remind me, you would be...?"

"INFORMATION. HEAVENLY HOST SUPPLYING TOURIST INFORMATION."

Martha frowned but didn't say anything. The Doctor had said that they were directly above Earth, so did that mean that the Host were like some sort of Earth imitation for the passengers on this ship? 'Heavenly host' sounded like something from one of the Christmas songs that her brother liked to sing.

"Good. So, tell me, because I'm an idiot-"

"You got that right," the Master muttered under his breath.

"-where are we from?"

"INFORMATION. THE TITANIC IS EN ROUTE FROM THE PLANET STO IN THE CASSAVALIAN BELT. THE PURPOSE OF THE CRUISE IS TO EXPERIENCE PRIMITIVE CULTURES."

_Primitive_? Martha felt rather offended at that term to describe her race.

"_Titanic_," the Doctor mused. "Who thought of the name?"

"INFORMATION. IT WAS CHOSEN AS THE MOST FAMOUS VESSEL OF THE PLANET EARTH."

The Master smirked. "Did they tell you why it was famous?"

"Wait, I'm sorry but if Earth is considered to be so primitive then why did you name this place after one of their ships?" Martha questioned.

"INFORMATION. ALL DESIGNATIONS ARE CHOSEN BY MISTER MAX CAPRICORN, PRESIDENT OF MAX- MAX- MAX- MAX-"

The robot broke off as it started convulsing and twitching rapidly. The Doctor attempted to _ever so subtly _retrieve his sonic screwdriver and revive the robot himself but before he could do that, he was interrupted by the steward from earlier.

"Ooh, bit of a glitch," the Doctor supplied helpfully.

"It's all right, sir. We can handle this." The steward gestured for some assistance and two more came over to help. They managed to deactivate the robot before carrying it away.

The steward turned back and sent them a fake smile. "Software problem, that's all. Leave it with us, good sir's and madame. Merry Christmas." And with that, he walked away, muttering something to his co-workers.

"Something is definitely up," the Doctor observed quietly to Martha and the Master. "Did you see the way that steward was looking at us? That fake smile? It was obvious he's trying to cover something up. But what?"

"Maybe the fact that Earth's actually just a bunch of primitive apes?" The Master shrugged, smirking at Martha knowingly. She could feel the hairs on the back of neck stand up but she tried to ignore them, instead opting to send a glare. However, it didn't prove to be much of a glare due to the Master's predatory grin widening.

"No, that's not helping," the Doctor said to the other Time Lord, somewhat irritably.

At that precise moment in time, however, there was a loud smashing of what seemed to be glass come directly from behind the three. They turned around just in time to see a young waitress being yelled at by what appears to be a rich, British man bragging about his "genuine Earth antique", both surrounded in glass and what Martha assumed was drink remains. The waitress knelt down and began picking up the pieces (which Martha, what with her being a doctor, knew the dangers of doing such a thing), prompting both Martha and the Doctor to go and help her; the Master pouting behind them but following them nonetheless.

"There we go," the Doctor said as he began picking up glass remains.

"Careful," Martha warned.

"Thank you, sir, I can manage." The waitress said politely. Martha noted a distinctly Australian accent evident in her voice.

"I never said you couldn't. I'm the Doctor, by the way, and this is Martha and, um..." The Doctor broke off, struggling to think of an alias for the Master.

The Master simply smirked. "I'm the-"

"Harold!" Martha blurted out. "His name is Harold." She didn't miss the death glare the man in question was sending her. _If looks could kill_...

"Yes, this is our good friend, Harold."

"Right, I'm just going to go stand over there." The Master excused himself and wondered to the right.

The waitress smiled at the two of them, her gaze lingering on the Doctor. Martha felt the twinges of guilt settle deep in the pit of her stomach. "Astrid, sir. Astrid Peth."

"Nice to meet you, Astrid Peth. Merry Christmas."

Astrid seemed pleasantly surprised by the greeting. "Merry Christmas, sir."

"Oh no, it's just Doctor, not sir-"

The Doctor was broken off by a commotion from where the Master was standing. The three of them looked over and saw said evil Time Lord arguing with one of the angel robot things. It was so bad that a couple of stewards were called over and attempted to restrain _Harold,_ a trying feat that proved to be something of a variety to be able to do.

"Martha, would you mind going over and taking care of that? Just tell the stewards that _Harold_ is temporarily insane and suffering from chronic nightmares. Oh, and," the Doctor fished through his pockets to produce the physic paper, "you might need this." The Doctor asked the human doctor as he handed her the blank paper. Martha felt a surge of anger but complied with an inward groan as she left the man she lo- no, adored flirt with the pretty young waitress.

Wondering over to where the commotion lay, Martha called over to one of the stewards, "Hey, blimey. What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm so sorry, madame, this man has violated the terms of health and safety and has damaged this robot. We will be taking him to Max Capricorn."

"'_My name is Max_' Max," the Master grinned at Martha. "Hello, Martha, how are you?"

She refused to acknowledge him. "I'm so sorry, but you can't arrest him. He can't help it; he's..." _Spit it out, Jones_. "He suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder during the latest war and he cannot handle robots. They terrify him as they used them on him during the war and so he lashes out at them. I'm his doctor."

All the while Martha was speaking she could sense the Master's murderous expression and death glare glaring holes into her face; it made her struggle to keep her clear façade.

"We'll need to see some identification."

Martha held up the psychic paper, clearly trying to visualise her license that she left back home. After what seemed like an age, the two stewards nodded and released the Master.

"He'll have to follow up on some rules and make sure that he doesn't step at least five foot near one of the Host, but we'll let him go." _Aha, so they're called the Host. Interesting_. Martha grabbed hold of the Master's sleeve - trying not to grimace in disgust - and made for the way back to the Doctor and his new girlfriend, but she turned around again at the call of the steward.

"Doctor Jones! Make sure he stays on his medication this time, we don't want anymore _accidents_ happening."

Martha forced a smile and offered a polite 'Merry Christmas' to them both as they left. As soon as they were out of sight, she dropped her smile and let go of her grip on the Master's arm.

"_'Post-traumatic stress disorder_'?" The Master questioned, regaining his bloodthirsty demeanour, reminding the woman how dangerous he truly is.

"Would you rather have been chained up and taken to Max Capricorn?" Martha kept her tone frosty to cover up any fear; though she was certain he could tell she was judging by his signature grin on his face.

"Yes!"

Martha refrained from rolling her eyes. "Well, just think of it as _Harold Saxon_ as having post-traumatic stress disorder, not you."

The Master only grumbled in response.

* * *

"Red-Six-Seven! Red-Six-Seven! This way, as fast as you can!"

"Oh, Martha," the Doctor called over to the woman in question who was still playing baby-sitter to the Master. "Come on, I'm going to need that psychic paper. Come on."

"Where are we going?" Martha asked as she allowed the Doctor to drag her and the Master away.

"To Earth, you see," he pointed at a stand with electric bracelets, "they are teleportation bracelets and they will transport down to the planet below: Earth."

Just at that time, they bumped into Astrid a tray containing only one drink. "I got you that drink," she said, happily. Martha felt envy swirl in her stomach again; and, based on the Master's knowing smirk, he knew it too.

"And _I_ got you a treat. Come on."

The now four of them wondered over to a large grouping of people with an elderly man standing at the front with a microphone perched in front of him. "Red-Six-Seven departing shortly."

"Red-Six-Seven plus three!" The Doctor called, waving his psychic paper in the air. The old man looked at them for a moment and, for one horrible second, Martha thought he was going to make them stay, but he simply called them up and brandished four teleport bracelets.

"I'll get the sack," Astrid warned as she eyed the bracelet in the Doctor's grasp.

"_Boo-hoo_," the Master muttered and, as much Martha hated to admit it, she agreed with the Master.

The Doctor handed her the bracelet. "Brand new sky..."

Astrid grinned at him and she took the bracelet and slid it on to her wrist the same as Martha had done. Martha instantly felt guilty for her jealously of the waitress - all she wanted was a life filled with adventure and wonder.

"To repeat: I am Mr Copper," the old man announced, "the ship's historian, and I shall be taking you to old London town in the country of UK, ruled by good king Wenceslas-"

Martha barely held back an unladylike snort; the Master didn't even bother.

"Is there something troubling you, sir?" Mr Copper asked him, looking somewhat displeased at being interrupted.

"Not at all. Please, please, continue."

"Thank you. As I was saying, human beings worship the great god Santa, a creature with fearsome claws, and his wife, Mary. And every Christmas Eve, the people of UK go to war with the country of Turkey. They then eat the Turkey people for Christmas dinner like savages."

Everyone looked positively horrified at that; the disgust written plainly across their faces. Even Astrid looked revolted. The Master kept his smirk on his face and the Doctor looked plain confused. Martha, however, couldn't stop laughing at all of this, causing everyone to turn to her with their revulsion painted on their faces.

"Is there something funny, miss?" Mr Copper questioned, his face the perfect picture of nausea.

Martha forced herself to stop laughing and shook her head as the Doctor asked, "Excuse me. Sorry, sorry. But, er, where did you get all this from?"

"Well, I have a first class degree in Earthonomics-"

"_Earthonomics_?" Martha interrupted.

"-yes, that's right. Now, stand by."

Mr Copper was poised, ready to press the button to take them to planet Earth, but before he could do so, a little red alien ran up to them, exclaiming, "And me! And me! Red-Six-Seven."

"Well, take a bracelet please, sir," Mr Copper insisted, looking annoyed at being interrupted numerous times. Martha felt sorry for the old man; he looked like he wanted to retire but didn't have the means to do so.

"But, er, hold on, hold on. What was your name?"

"Bannakaffalatta," the alien supplied helpfully. Martha smiled at the little guy, he seemed rather sweet.

The Master burst out laughing at this little alien. "You know what, I think I'm going to call you _Banana_. You," he pointed at the little alien, "call me the Master."_  
_

"Or just Harold," Martha added, smiling at Bannakaffalatta and glaring at _Harold_.

"Okay, okay, _Bannakaffalatta._" The Doctor said, looking out of his depth. "But it's Christmas Eve down there. Late night shopping, tons of people. And, no offence but-"

"You're going to scare everyone away; you look like the Devil," the Master smirked evilly. "No one will want to speak to you and, furthermore, I can guarantee you that-"

The Master was cut off as Mr Copper pressed the button and they were all transported below to planet Earth.

_Welcome home, Earth. Did you miss us?_


End file.
